Mother
by Skrik
Summary: Let's just say Kazutaka is forced to do a 'favor' for his mother.


_Mother_

_Disclaimer: Yami No Matsuei belongs to Matsushita Yoko_

"Kaa-sama…" you murmur. You've always wondered where she was, who she was…everything about her is just a mystery, is it not? But, at the same time, you do know her, don't you? Yes, the same woman who moves briskly through the house, always wearing beautiful dresses of pure black, full, luscious lips painted black, fingernails painted black…like a female Reaper…an omen of Death. Yet, she is such a beautiful creature, you think. Indeed, in a gothic way. Her skin is a pale white of smooth porcelain, her hair falls to the waist in a rippling ocean of fine, silvery locks…the stark contrast of white against black is magical…alluring in a sense…

"Come closer, Kazutaka," she beckons in a motherly nature. You are obedient, of course, not wanting to see her cry. You take cautious steps towards her, as though each movement robs you of your energy. She embraces you and you let her. She holds your childish physique with such great care, the exact same way she holds her Victorian dolls. She runs her fingers through the luster of your fine hair, commenting on how silkily soft it is, "Your hair, silvery-white like the frozen moon…" she whispers gently into your ear. Her eyes are now fixated onto yours and you can sense a chill run down your spine, "Beautiful eyes…so beautiful…like the lakes holding the full moon…" she continues. You can feel the slender fingers wondering on your skin. They are hungry for flesh as they reach under your shirt. Your mother holds you down, letting her fingers unclothe you with great care the same way she does to her dolls. You in her grasp protest, but she is undeterred.

You can feel the soft fabric slowly slide off, revealing your exposed flesh, and her inane rants continue, "White skin like the finest Western porcelain…" You try to scream for her to stop, but your voice has dissolved in your throat. She undoes the rest of your clothing, with much of your reluctance. She is stronger that you are, is she not? So, why bother fighting? Under the dim light, you can see your luminescent skin glowing. She is obviously thrilled by the sight of your body. She kisses you the way she has never done to your father. You can feel her soft breath on your face as she lowers her lips onto yours. She forces your lips to part and you let her tongue wonder slowly, into the back of your throat. You gag and feel like throwing up, but you bear this for her. As she moves away, you think that this is over. Weakly, you reach for your clothes, mere milliliters away. She senses this and presses down on your arm. It hurts as she forces it down harder and you swear that you could almost hear the sound of your bones break. "No, no, no, my beautiful Kazutaka, we are not done yet." She adds a sly smile to promote the misleading meaning of the words.

Your body aches. Your body hurts. You are in pain now and you know it. Why won't you say it? Yes, you do try, but…she is there. She wants you to keep this secret. She does not want anyone to know about this. You feel like crying but you hold it back, all for her sake. "That's a good boy, Kazutaka," she says as she nibbles at your earlobe. She rises from you and you pray that it's over. So sorry, little one, the torture is just about to begin. She removes her thin layer of clothing slowly, allowing you to see the flattering curves of her beautiful body. You cannot but help yourself as you think about how…arousing your mother looks. It seems as though; she should deserve someone much better than your father. Your eyes travel from the form of her curvaceous bust line to her slender waist and finally down her graceful, long legs. She smiles at you, like a cat that has captured a rat. Your legs feel numb as you try to move away from her, but she captures you. She presses down on you. You can feel the similar flawless skin rub against your own.

She tells you what to do, and you do it, just trying to fulfill her wishes. You know this makes her happy, don't you? Your eyes meet hers, once again. Her eyes are different, so, so different. They are practically ravenous with hunger. Your body reacts to the welcomed pain and you continue to bear it. Tears are so hard to control now. You can feel them rolling down your cheek and blending with the saliva of your tongue. For an instance, the salty taste lingers, only to be replaced by the disgusting taste of bitter. Your mother kisses the tears away. She licks her lips, trying to capture the complex taste of the crystalline pearls…you whimper slightly and you received nothing more than a smirk. "Come now, Kazutaka, you are a boy, aren't you? And boys should not cry." Your tears are now forgotten puddles of water on your fair skin. She beams, happy, again to see your tears cease.

Moments past in silence, finally, the ordeal is over. You watch as she dresses swiftly. Then, you too began to put on your clothes. You can feel her eyes bore holes into the back of your head, as you button your shirt, not daring to face her. You sense her eyes traveling, the same way yours did, as she removed her outer layer. They creep from your immature shoulders down to lower half of your boyish body. She seems fascinated by your anatomical structure and her desire for you is great. You know she treasures you more than anything else in the world, except maybe her doll collection…Now, you notice, the sharp cold eyes, which have been watching this heinous deed throughout the while. Their unchanging expressions linger in your mind as you stare back. Your mother now is no longer spying as well; instead she is swift and is now standing before her vast collection. "Elegant, aren't they, Kazutaka?" she asks. You do not answer but only nod. She nods as well. "Dolls are indeed better than humans, aren't they? Yes, they are perfect, never aging, permanent; immortal…they are avid listeners and will not snap back at you…they are truly perfect beings…" she sighs softly.

Her hand reaches out and opens the glass cupboard gently. You can hear the hinge of the glass door squeak, as it probably has not been opened for a long time. You wonder what she is doing. Your curiosity grows as she reaches into the cupboard, and removes a doll. Its intricate beauty was what made it the most prized of her possessions. The golden of locks of woven thread, the perfectly sculpted face, vivid glass eyes of a deep sapphire, just a tone away from amethyst…the skin is porcelain, a perfect snow-white, as you have expected. The doll is clad in a dress of frills, with such lifelike significance. The braids in her hair only enhance the realism and the lack of it, to its full effect. She caresses it lovingly, the same way she touches you. You can see her move her head close to it, feeling the cold glass skin against her human flesh. "Kazutaka," you immediately look up at her the second you hear your name, " this doll is my first and most prized of my entire collection." She speaks lovingly. "It is the most delicate and the most spectacular among all the others." You nod your head, not following a word she says. Her glance is on you now, "The same way you are…a perfect child." Your blood chills at the sound of each syllable.

She laughs gently, her voice shrill and cold. "Yes, indeed…a beautiful angel. You are mine, Kazutaka, the same way I own these dolls…you are one of my prized possessions…" She gently lifts the doll into your hands; you are shocked and can hardly speak. "She is yours, Kazutaka. The both of you would surely make good friends…after all, the two of you share so much in common." It is cold. The doll is like an icy corpse at the finger's touch. The eyes are dead, without a trace of emotion. The empty, painted smile seems so real yet so false at the same time. You quiver in fear, at the thought of the similarities you share with the doll. Your mother is right, you must admit. You are one with these dolls, the same. You are called perfect, with those intricate features of your sculpted face and your cold eyes…your behavior is like them as well, isn't it? Yes, you are twisted and contorted to suit the whims of others, just like them as your mother plays with them.

You inhale sharply, trying to force your mind into acceptance but it does not budge from the fact that you are human, not an inanimate object with as much importance as a doll. "My son," she addresses you all of a sudden. This time, you pay close attention to every syllable, "My angel, if I were to die, would you take care of them for me?" she questions. You say, "Yes" in a barely audible whisper. She appears contented that she has someone to trust. She beams at you. She looks exquisite when she smiles, you think softly. She releases another doll from its glass cage. She toys with the hair and clothes, bringing back the sensation of sensuous touches flirting with your skin. You hold the doll tightly, as though it might bring you some comfort. She notices your gesture, "That's a good boy, Kazutaka. Yes, take good care of her, will you? Treat her as if she were your sister, no, your twin, your reflection…" You force a smile back at her.

"Now what do you want to call your new friend, Kazutaka?" she looks patiently at you, waiting for an answer.

"Veronica. I'll call her Veronica."

Fin-

* * *

A/N: Hmm...Muraki-sama has a freaky kaa-sama...he _definitely _takes after her. 


End file.
